


Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Murder

by FushigiNoKuniNo



Category: Stellar Firma (Podcast)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, i would add more tags but, that would require knowing what's going on here, theoretical murder, which is knowledge i don't possess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FushigiNoKuniNo/pseuds/FushigiNoKuniNo
Summary: There was a brief silence as Trexel considered the screen, and David considered Trexel. Then, almost quietly...“Are you trying to kill me, David?”





	Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Murder

On any other day, David 7 would have been surprised, but hardly horrified, to hear the door slide open. On any other day, David 7 would perhaps have welcomed the change to the monotonous routine that was his life. And, on any other day, David 7 would almost certainly have considered this situation some manner of miracle. Today, however, it was the absolute worst-case scenario.

Trexel was _early_.

“Trexel, what are you doing here?” David 7 yelped, pushing the holo-screen and its incriminating evidence toward the far wall.

“Shhh, David,” Trexel said, grabbing him and pressing his index finger firmly over his lips, “I. Am. Hiding.”

“Hiding from what?” he asked, batting Trexel’s hands away. They smelled of fish, and his breath of alcohol, and David 7 was trying very hard not to add to the Boardawful potpourri of scents by vomiting. He had to sleep here, after all.

Trexel didn’t fight him, though his voice remained a conspiratorial whisper as he continued.

“From _Hartro_.”

David 7 rolled his eyes, and didn’t bother to keep his voice down.

“Weren’t you hiding from Hartro all weekend? Again?”

“Well I _tried_ , David, but she found me! She found me with that tracking device of hers, and I had to spend all weekend with marmalade-flinging orphans. Oh, how they whined, and they screamed, and they _shrieked_. It was positively dreadful."

“But you did. Do the orphan thing, I mean.”

“Yes. And the _screams_ , David. Have I mentioned the screams?”

“You did,” David 7 sighed, “So...why are you hiding from Hartro now?”

“You see, David, that’s because I had an epiphany,” Trexel grabbed him round the shoulders with one arm as he said this, making a sweeping motion with his other hand. Ah, yes, there was the marmalade, David 7 could smell it now. “All of my problems, you know, with Hartro, and just generally, really, are because of our planet designs. If there were no designs, I would have no problems. None whatsoever! I only need to stop working. And—here’s the really clever part, David— _Hartro can’t make me do work if she can’t find me._ ”

“You’re hiding...from work.”

“Yes, David, I believe I just said that.”

“In your office.”

“Must I repeat every detail for you? You know how I hate to repeat myself, David. I’m a man of few words. Trexel Geistman, man of mystery—”

David 7 made a small, scornful noise in the back of his throat. If Trexel noticed, he gave no indication.

“And the tracking device?”

“The what?"

“The… The tracking device. You mentioned it yourself, three minutes ago.”

“You know, you are awfully critical, David. Do you feel that? That’s your negative energy. I can feel it, and it’s very weird. Would you like it if I did that to you? Got my negative energy all over you and made you feel weird? Now be quiet, there’s a Bloodsport on I’ve been hoping to catch,” Trexel said, taking an abrupt left turn both metaphorically and physically as he moved to face the holo-screen.

“Oh, uh, Trexel, wai—”

David 7, caught up as he had been in the never-ending task of trying to parse what the hell Trexel was on about, was far too late to stop him.

There was a brief silence as Trexel considered the screen, and David considered Trexel. Then, almost quietly...

“Are you trying to kill me, David?”

“...Nnno?” David 7 attempted.

“Are you quite sure? Are you very, totally, completely positive that you’re not trying to murder me?”

“...Yeees?” David 7 looked at Trexel with what he hoped was a convincingly innocent expression.

It was, in fact, not.

“I can see your search history, David,” exclaimed Trexel, gesturing wildly at the screen, “I can see that you’ve written, ‘how to do a murder’! Also…‘killing boss ethical, question mark,’ and ‘can I just chuck someone out the window of a space station, comma, is that something I can do.’ I see it all, David! It’s right here in I.M.O.G.E.N.”

“Alright. Maybe I’m trying to murder you. Just a bit.”

“A bit? How do you murder someone a _bit_ , David? Did I.M.O.G.E.N. teach you how to _partially_ murder someone?”

David 7 sunk onto his shitty, shitty chair, and folded his arms petulantly.

“No. It won’t even let me search properly. It seems to have something against plotting.”

“Really?”

Trexel pressed the “Search” button on one of the saved inquiries experimentally.

<PLOT DETECTED. SECURITY ALERTED.>

“Ah. So it does. Well, what did you come up with, then? Were you going to...what, stab me with a knife or something?”

“I don’t have a knife! _You_ have a knife.”

“I have a… You’re right, David! I have a knife! Board’s sake, man, how were you planning to kill me when I’m the one with the knife?”

“Well, I rather assumed you’d forget. As you did. Just now.”

“You can’t just _assume_ when it comes to murder, David. You need a plan. You need to scheme in minute detail so that no one can ever discover your crimes, or if they do, and they say ‘hey, Trexel, you murdered that guy! You murdered him, didn’t you? I know you did,’ you can reply ‘haha, prove it!’ and they won’t be able to, David, because you’ve thrown all of the evidence into a sun. That’s the kind of plan you need, David! My Board, it’s like you’ve never murdered anyone before.”

“Uh…”

“And how were you going to escape? Have you mapped a route to the escape pods? Have you been mapping without me, David? Using grids in my absence?”

David 7 drew in a long breath through his nose.

“No, Trexel. I’ve been in this room for the last two weeks. Which, as I believe I’ve mentioned previously, comprises my entire life.”

“Because,” Trexel plowed on, failing to take in this information just as completely as he had the last dozen times David 7 had mentioned it, “you can hardly expect to make it to the escape pods without a map. It’s a maze out there, David. A rat maze, and you’ll want that cheese!”

“I...what?”

“The cheese, David, the _cheese_ ," Trexel said with an entirely inappropriate air of gravitas, "But you won’t be able to get it! You’ll stagger through the corridors, wondering where the Cosmic Lounge has got to, and a minotaur will sneak up on you from behind…”

“Those are two very different metaphors, Trexel, I’m not sure...”

“And you’ll realize, wait, that’s not a minotaur, that’s Hartro! And then she’ll ask you how many drinks you’ve had and you won’t know, David, because it turns out you’ve been in the Cosmic Lounge the whole time. It’s a veritable labyrinth out there, I tell you.”

“...Right,” said David 7, because he had literally no idea what else he could possibly say.

“So that’s it, then. You have no weapon, no experience, and no plan, and yet you’re trying to murder me. You know what, David? I’m a little offended. You’ve offended me.”

“I’m…sorry?”

“Good. Good, you stay here, and you think about what you’ve done, David. I am going for a drink!” Trexel announced, and then he marched right back out of the office.

For a moment, David 7 stared after him. _Well, that...happened._

He glanced over at the clock. Eighty minutes until end of shift. There was still time.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, your guess is as good as mine
> 
> anyway, writing fic for this show is really fun, because I can basically ignore style and grammar conventions in favor of trying to get the mannerisms across, but if the experience of reading it is somewhat like having glowsticks shoved in both your eyes, well...sorry about that


End file.
